The Whiskey Talking
by Anotherobsession
Summary: A short, but kind of sad (in my opinion) one-shot between Ronald Weasley and his Quidditch idol. Slight Harmony, but nothing major. Rated T because I'm paranoid! Yay!


Ron Weasley rolled over lazily in the crimson red sheets, his eyes opening slowly. He had a Potions test today, he would be late… He slid out of bed and his feet hit the hardwood floor. He faintly acknowledged that he was naked. Since when had he started doing that? He must have been too bushed after the Yule Ball last night to change.

It hit him then. The Gryffindor boys' dorm had stone flooring, not wood. His mind began whirling nauseatingly. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. Right. Where was he?

He slowly turned around, taking in his surroundings. He was in a small room, a bedroom, obviously. The first wall was rather plain, but hung many medals and trophies that Ron was too bewildered to examine, along with a few Wizarding photographs of an intimidating-looking man and a thin woman with salt-and-pepper hair. The man frowned at him, and the ginger became overwhelmingly aware of his naked-ness. He quickly located his underwear and pants slung haphazardly in a corner. He put them on and returned to his investigation.

The second wall was decorated with gold and crimson, or maybe maroon, hangings, and for a minute Ron thought that maybe, just maybe this was one of the Gryffindor girl's dorm room. However, he found no further evidence to support his theory, as the crests on the hangings were most definitely NOT Gryffindor's. He turned around too quickly and his head swam. Damn, he was hungover. The ginger silently cursed his inability to hold liquor as he reoriented himself.

The third wall was taken up by a large circular window. Ron shuffled slowly through the piles of robes and shirts on the floor, unable to discern if they were his, or if whoever owned this room was merely messy.

Once he reached the window, he peered through, his vision still blurry. When his eyes decided to cooperate, Ron's stomach fell at the sight of Hogwarts and the bank of the BlackLake. The thoughts in his mind began jumbling together.

He was on a ship. The Durmstrang ship. Why? And he was in someone's room. Who…

"Ron?" A very thickly accented voice wafted towards his ears from behind him.

Ron jumped about ten feet, but still turned around to the sight of the bed he had just exited, but had not previously noticed that it was doubly occupied. How had he not noticed?

Viktor Krum, the world-famous Seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team, was sitting up drowsily in the bed that Ron had been in no more than five minutes ago, while he was naked, and judging by how little the scarlet sheets were covering, so was his Quidditch idol.

"I….you….why…here….?" Ron's words stumbled out one after the other, none really making sense, but Viktor seemed to get the point.

"You don't remember last night at all?" He said, confused, and Ron was rather worried at the evident disappointment in his tone. The ginger shook his head.

A slow smile crept across the Seeker's face, "Vell," His voice dropped a few octaves and he almost purred, "Maybe you vould like some help remembering, no?" He raised his dark eyebrows suggestively.

Ron squeaked. Snatches of memory floated around drunkenly in his mind. The ball, afterwards, he, Harry, Hermione and Krum, drinking, so much drinking. And laughing, there was a lot of that too. The common room, they were all there. Harry left to his dorms, blatantly drunk, Hermione, clutching his arm, noticeably less so. They both disappeared into the boys' dorms and Ron….

Ron felt sick as more memories surfaced. Memories of him staggering across the grounds, but quietly, didn't want to get caught. Then they were kissing, rough and noisily, the freckly ginger and his Quidditch hero. Shirts were gone before the door had closed, pants soon followed. Tanned rough skin on pale freckled. Silencio, to keep the other boys from interrupting, from hearing the lust-filled moans Ron was making under the Seeker. Boxers disappeared. Moans grew into screams, and then…whispers.

_"I loff you Ron Weasley."_

Ron came to his senses quickly, feeling faintly sick, he asked, "Did we…."

Krum nodded slowly, knowing where this was going, "I suppose you vould rather not remember then." He said, crestfallen.

A few water birds flew quickly out of the way as the window of Krum's room swung open and Ron emptied the contents of his stomach into the BlackLake.

Moments later, a very red, very agitated, half-dressed Weasley stormed out of the ship, off the dock, and back onto Hogwarts grounds to find his friends, hopefully not where he had left them last night.

Viktor watched him go, with disappointment creating a large uncomfortable pit in his stomach. "I should haff known it vas the Firevisky talking…" He murmured discontentedly as he pulled on a pair of pants from the floor. He pulled on a random shirt, frowning when his head refused to fit through the hole. He then realized with a slight twinge in his stomach that is was Ron's shirt. He pulled it off; then brought it to his nose as he breathed in the woodsy scent of the ginger. He would have to give it to him later, he supposed.

"Or perhavs not he vill haff to come and get it himselv." He murmured, pressing the shirt close to his chest, imagining an, admittedly overly optimistic, scene where he would hear those three little words back.

**A/N: Okay, so that ended rather fluffily. Not my intention, but hey, this thing kinda just went where it wanted. I hadn't originally planned for the tiny bit of Harmony, but hey, I ship it, so I'm good! Please review if you liked it, and maybe I'll post something happier of our favorite unlikely couple! Maybe where Ron doesn't throw up at the thought of Viktor….**


End file.
